


thru the phone

by orphan_account



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Phone Sex, Smut, this was a prize, top!yoosung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: in which morning is a bitch to yoosung kim, and he somehow thinks a phone call is the solution.
(it actually is.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is just some shameless, requested smut written as a prize for over-whelming-trash on tumblr.
> 
> written by mod mar, just posted as an orphan work on a personal ao3. she hopes you enjoy her work!

He woke up warm.

 

All hot and bothered, horny and desperate.

 

It took all of Yoosung’s strength to not just slide a hand down to touch his flushed cock, straining against the confinements of his cotton briefs. His breath heavy and harsh, he rolled over onto his back, taking in a deep breath of cool air.  

 

With sunlight streaming through peeked, open curtains, Yoosung slipped a hand down to wrap tightly around the base of his cock. He moved on the bed, into more of a sitting position, before taking the liberty of pull off his white t-shirt in one fluid motion. His legs up on top of his fluffy sheets, the left side of his bed empty. He liked it like this- when he was alone and could work himself up quickly and hard, for the release he'd sometimes desperately needed. 

 

He palmed his aching member, flushed and hot, harshly, trying to edge himself towards his release. He closed his eyes, tears pricking and building up from the pleasure coming from the build up of his jerks around the base of his cock, and his occasional pause to rub his thick thumb into his head. He gasped, when he flicked his wrist at the end of a stroke, just the way he liked it. A whimper fell from his lips and his had to gnaw on his mouth to stop them, but you could still hear the sounds from his mouth every time he slapped down hard on a stroke.

 

His back arched when thick, clear pre-cum drips from the tip and runs down his shaft and meeting the palm of his hand. He bit his lips, eyes scrunched up, and blinking tears from what he felt fell to the corners of his eyes. But while he can’t deny the electricity that’s flowing in currents within his bones, he was missing  _ something _ .

 

So he let out a puff of air, free hand fumbling for his phone charging on his dresser. His mind is slightly hazy, racing with thoughts of the tightness in his briefs, as he scrolls down the list and  _ finally _ finds the person he needs.

 

It’s only after he presses the call button that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to call his girlfriend at barely past dawn, but his head is cloudy and pleasure trickling down his body, that he doesn’t care.

 

His call is picked up on the third ring, ears graced with a cheery, “Yoosung”!

 

He thanks some force out there for no irritated girlfriend, but he doesn’t return the happy greeting with one of his own. He just groans loudly into the receiver before ordering a quiet, “I’m jacking myself off right now, and I need you to strip. Don’t fight me on this. Please.” The last part is tacked on last second, but he whines it, briefly sounding as if he wasn’t about to die from not touching himself.

 

Yoosung hisses as a particular stroke brings him closer to his edge, noting the sudden silence and the lack of movement. He growls, and he hears a whimper from the other side; he knows it’s rare when he gets so domineering, so authoritative, but when it happens, he expects perfect obedience. After all, he does the same for MC when she’s the one in control.

 

“MC?” His tone is rougher than usual, and she knows that it’s useless to stay silent.

 

“I-I, I was already naked, Yoosung,” she admits, the shyness coming through despite it being over a call. “I was about to take a shower before you called.”

 

Yoosung groans immediately at the image. He pictures of smooth skin flushed dark red, of petite curves that looked too innocent and too tempting for him to not mark, and of a wet core that always seemed eager to please him in whatever way. 

 

“Forget that, you’re going back into the bedroom and fucking yourself and getting me off with that,” he pants, cock leaking more than ever as he  _ finally  _ hears her moving and the noise of a door closing.

 

“Princess,” he sighs out, enjoying the sharp inhale over the phone at the filth behind the innocent name. “Go ahead, play with yourself anyway you want. You just have to tell me what you're doing.”

 

“Y-Yoosung!” He can hear the embarrassment in her tone, the shame in telling him all of her most intimate secrets; he groans at the idea of his power, feels it washing over him in waves until he stutters out another order to just  _ ‘Do what I say, not question what I say’. _

 

His hand is slightly aching from stroking himself, and his cock for trying to hold back from coming. Because truth be told, he can get himself off fine, it’s just that he loves the rare instances that he could be the one dominating, the one ordering his girlfriend around just to appease his own selfish fantasies; another surge of pleasure strikes him.

 

“C’mon, princess, please, just for me?” His voice is bordering between desperation and irritation.

 

He hears the gulp from the other side.

 

“I-I’m touching myself like how you usually, like, when we start.”

 

He know what she’s doing, knows the path her hands follow and the routine she imitates, _ all for him _ . He doesn’t call her out on it, but instead just pictures her smooth palms running up and down her skin, starting from the top of her neck sliding all the way down her sides, her hips; just going further and further down until her hands finally reach her core and  _ Yoosung groans _ .

 

And then he hears the yelp from the other side, breaking off into a choked noise.

 

He thinks of her dipping her fingers into her heat, her arousal, of her thinking about him the entire time; that the only way she could ever feel satisfaction was when it was him, and no one else.

 

He thinks of her keening for him, for his cock, begging for him to just take her however he wished to because in that moment, he was the master that she would answer to, that she would let order her and do whatever he wished.

 

He thinks of her heat wrapping around him, his lips catching her own before it slipped down to mar her skin with reds and pinks; to mar her skin with his silent, yet bright possession.

 

“Princess, you’re mine, alright? Only mine, forever mine,” he chokes out, hand speeding up to just reach that last step until the edge.

 

“Only yours, Yoosung, forever and ever,” he hears her whimper before it cuts to a loud groan. “It’ll always be you.”

 

And then he’s gone, eyes closing as everything in him tenses up, cock spurting out thick waves of white until there’s nothing left but the shaking of his body, the heat against his stomach, and the last taste of his morning depravity.

 

His breathing is rough, throat hurting and dry. It’s a few more moments that they pass in silence until the other line picks up a chat again.

 

“I...I have to take a shower, Yoosung.”

 

He laughs, light and sunny this time.


End file.
